(Side-note: Chose not to post this last week because I was a wuss. Chose to post it today.)
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I had a seizure today. I have small seizures nearly every day, but this one was a little more intense. Initially, I wanted to hide it from the world because I would hate for you to think that things are getting worse for me. Or judge me for not making good decisions about my treatments, or talk to your spouse about how you saw me drinking a beer with some friends, so therefore I must not be sticking with my treatments. These are the reasons we (or at least, I) hide things from others. Fear of being judged.
Since I felt the need to hide this information, to sweep it under the rug, I've randomly decided to do the opposite. To take this moment that preferably I'd like to hide away, pair it with the freeing realization that washed over me afterwards, and share it with you now. To, once again, make myself vulnerable to you and to myself. It's been awhile.
Today, I was reminded of death. During this seizure, the right side of my face paralyzed and my head started repeatedly jerking to the right. This has never happened before. I started drooling because I couldn't close my mouth and the bites of chili I was eating starting leaking out of my mouth and down my chin. So, I walked into the bathroom and watched in the mirror as this happened.
My soul watched in the mirror as my body deteriorated in front of my eyes.
While this happened for only a minute or so, the thoughts in my mind wondered on and on for what seemed like an hour. I started with, "Is this how I'll die? Is this the beginning of a series of events that will leave me lifeless on the bathroom floor?". Then, downgraded to, "Do I need to call an ambulance?" I decided the answer was no. Then I managed a long-term thought, "Will I be permanently disfigured to look like this?" Etc...
So my thoughts continued to progress on a scale of urgency, from 'death' to 'emergency care' to a shameful brief moment of vanity. But then, as my brain quieted, head still jerking, eyeing myself in the mirror, here is where my thoughts landed. "Who do I need to forgive? Who do I need to tell, one more time, 'I love you'? If you were to drop dead right now, what would you regret not doing?"
Death is real. And unfortunately, it has the capacity to remind us of it's reality when we're thinking about it the least. Like when you're eating chili. However, I want you to know something. At the moment when you are reminded that death is indeed real, I promise you this; I know exactly where your thoughts will go.
You will forget your job. You will forget your projects. You will forget how smart you are, once were, or potentially could be. And you will think about the relationships you have in your life. The good ones. The bad ones. The ugly ones.
My body, in it's current state, is moving closer and closer towards death. It's slipping away from me. Now, for the record, yours is doing the same. I just happen to get advanced reminders of my physical entropy. None of us can maintain constant control over our bodies, but we can control our decisions; the decisions we make in our relationships, what we choose to put our name on, and how we treat those around us.
I have my name, and even thought it was changed to David from Michael just briefly before I was born, it is representative of my identity. Despite my many flaws and continual failures I continue to make as though it were a full-time job, I'm continually reminded my identity is not found in me, but in Jesus Christ. Despite my failures, that identity can never be robbed from me. And despite seizures, strokes, cancer or even death, cannot take that away from me.
As I looked in the mirror and realized that if this indeed were "it", and if I didn't have a chance to make those few phone calls I needed to make, I would still not fear death. His grace is still sufficient for me even when I am too stubborn to admit my own failures. And knowing that... that his grace is indeed sufficient, actually makes me want to lay down those failures and ask for help.
So, when this seizure slowed down, I took a few sheets of toilet paper to wipe up bits of food off the bathroom floor. Aphasia, or the lack of the ability to speak, was setting in so I was forced into silence for another minute or two, like I was sent to the corner to think about what just happened, I continued to stare at myself in the mirror as the right size of my face returned to it's normal posture.
But even without the ability to speak, my mind re-focused itself on the same thread of thinking initially brought on in that initial moment of panic:
"Make those phone calls. Ask for forgiveness. Say 'I love you'. Be humbled by the grace that is continually poured out over you, because, dammit, I'm not dead yet."
